K:
And blood-black nothingness began to spin... A system of cells interlinked within cells interlinked within cells interlinked within one stem... And dreadfully distinct against the dark, a tall white fountain played.

Joi:
I always knew you were special. Maybe this is how. A child. Of woman born. Pushed into the world. Wanted. Loved.

Niander Wallace:
Is it the same now, as then? The moment you met her. All these years, drunk on the memory of its perfection. How shiny her lips. How instant your connection. Did it never occur to you that is why you were summoned in the first place? Designed to do nothing short of fall for her then and there? All to make that single perfect specimen. That is, if you were designed. Love, or mathematical precision? Yes? No?